


Sleeping With A Friend

by wkemeup



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, One Night Stand, Smut, friends with benefits kinda, heart eyes mutherfucker, loved you since the day I met you trope, maybe if they just communicated like adults they wouldnt be in this mess, oh and the smut, two idiots pining for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wkemeup/pseuds/wkemeup
Summary: You wake up in Bucky’s bed after a night you’re certain will only break your heart.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 182





	Sleeping With A Friend

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for @fvckingavengers’s quarantine writing challenge (on tumblr) ! I had the prompt of Sleeping With A Friend by Neon Trees ✨
> 
> And why mess up a good thing baby? / It’s a risk to even fall in love  
> So when you give that look to me / I better look back carefully  
> 'Cause this is trouble / Yeah, this is trouble  
> I’m scared but if my heart’s gonna break / Before the night will end  
> I said, ooh ooh / We’re in danger / Sleeping with a friend

You’re woken by a glimpse of sunlight as it streams in through the bedroom window. It escapes through the sliver between the curtains and you tuck your face into the crook of something warm. Still, it eclipses over your shoulder and you grunt a little as it seeps beyond closed lids and beckons you awake; gentle, at first, but there’s something in its presence as your eyes flutter open that exposes the room around you.

You feel it as you lift your head from the comfort of a broad, bare shoulder, as the delicate touch of a hand slips off your spine and falls to the mattress – a pang of regret. It boils deep down into your stomach. It takes a swift hold of you as your heart starts to race and you glimpse down to the face of a man you’d loved almost as long as you’d known him. A man you’d sworn off, a man who occupied the entirety of your heart and soul and still, always at an arm’s length.

Bucky Barnes lays naked under the thin drape of a plain white sheet as he sleeps soundly beside you. The outline of his frame is so clearly prominent beneath and you realize how intertwined you are. A leg thrown over his thigh, nestled in the space between. An arm resting over his stomach, fingers grazing over his ribs. Your bare chest pressed up to his side, his breaths rising slow under your hand. 

So close. Closer than you’d ever been. Exposed. Vulnerable. 

It’s then, in the brief moment of panic, that the memory of the night before finds you. 

You remember the burn of alcohol; warm as it passed over your lips and trailed down through your chest, and the low hum of the jukebox playing in the corner of the bar. Bucky settled in on your left, a drink in his hand that would barely touch the serum infecting his veins as he laughed along to something you’d said. Wrinkling up by the blue of his eyes, edges of his lips pressing into his cheeks, the kind of sound that made your stomach twist into knots. So impossibly beautiful; it was a smile you often found in your dreams.

You remember taking his hand by the strength of a liquor induced courage and dragging him over to the small open space by the jukebox; just a series of wooden panels laying on the floor, unobstructed by spare tables and patrons. There was hesitancy in his movements, a look of caution in his eyes, though it faded away almost instantly as you placed his hands on your hips, as you’d weaved your fingers through his hair and began to sway. 

You remember how he watched you; how his eyes darkened under hooded lids as you swayed your hips, as you took another step closer to him, inching the space between you away. 

There had always been a tension, a burning sort of ember that threatened to flicker and spark and burst into flames in every touch, but you’d learned to suffocate it. You’d learned to stifle every instinct that pushed you in Bucky’s direction, that yearned and ached for him in a way that left you feeling empty and lonely, even when he was by your side. 

There were consequences to igniting that spark, to giving into its warmth and power, because you were certain it could only end in heartache and rejection and the loss of the most important person in your life. 

And still, you remember nurturing that ember until it set you aflame, until it consumed you and Bucky and the bar itself. 

The beat of the song picked up in pace and you’d turned in his arms, a hand snaking back behind his neck to hold him against you, and you’d swerved your hips against him. Your back to his chest, the curves of your ass pressing against his pelvis; rubbing along his length as it hardened under dark blue jeans, drawing out that sweet kind of sound from his lips you’d only ever heard beyond the thin wall his bedroom when he held a woman close and stoned another chip to your heart. 

A hitch in his breath with every movement and his fingers dug deeper into your hipbone, seeking more. You’d been playful with each other before but there was something darker at play; a risk that could threaten to destroy everything between you and the thrill that came from it. 

A challenge to stop, to be the first one to pull away, but neither of you dared. 

You remember how he’d spun you around, caged you against him, his breath touching over your cheeks, blue eyes searching for a reason to pull away and you gave him none. 

You remember the feel of his lips on yours, full and wet and wanting as he shoved you against the brick wall outside the bar, covered in the shadows of the alley and away from where the light and the consequences it could bring would find you. His thigh pressed up against you, nudging your knees open and you’d rubbed yourself onto him, sighing into his neck as he kept you upright. 

You remember his fingers slipping between your legs on the cab ride back to the tower, his lips seeking out your neck, as you struggled to bite down on the whimpers he pulled from you in every stroke inside your walls. Thick and unforgiving, expert in movement; he’d brought those very fingers to his lips and sucked them clean before you could reach your high. 

Then, stumbling up to his bedroom. Tearing off clothes along the way. Pressed up against elevator walls and wrapping legs around his waist. Kissing at his jaw and his neck and running your hands over hardened muscles and dipping down below his belt. 

Naked before you’d hit the bed, there was a dangerous kind of look in his eye as he crawled over you, as he propped open your legs and nestled between them. Hand wrapped around his cock as he stroked the beads of pre-cum over his shaft, gaze flickering down to your cunt. 

_This is trouble,_ you told yourself. _This is dangerous._ _You’ll break your own damn heart._

You knew Bucky’s habit of bringing home women whose names he didn’t care to know, how he often buried himself in distraction in the form of beautiful bodies, how he never once followed through on his promise to call them again. You knew what you felt for him was not compatible with what he was chasing as he nestled himself between your legs. You knew you’d hate yourself by morning. 

But Bucky was _right there_ and you were aching and needy and high on adrenaline-laced fantasies, so you hiked your legs around his waist, drawing him closer, urging him on, because if he waited even a second longer, maybe you would have come to your senses, you would have stopped yourself before he left you in pieces. 

The first time he sank into you, you were certain all the pain of loving him from a distance was worth it, just to feel him like this, to be as close as two people can be, to feel his breath hot on your neck and the low break of his moans as he rocked himself into you. 

You clung to him, nails digging into his back, whimpers from your lips as his hand slipped down along your bodies, inching you closer to the sweet embrace of a high in the clenching and coiling at your core. 

There were words he whispered to your ears, breaths laced in need and a longing you couldn’t quite place; words lost on you in the moment, as he brought you to release, as you muffled the cry in your voice to his shoulder and his thrusts lost their rhythm. You held onto him as he spilled into you, collapsed against you with the full of his weight and you found relief in it; in the fullness, in the pressure of him against you, in being completely consumed by Bucky Barnes. 

–

Bucky groans in his sleep and it pulls you sharply away from the memories, though the empty ache between your legs lingers.

His lips purse in his sleep, a slight wrinkle in his forehead as he confronts something unpleasant in his dreams, though it subsides rather quickly as he curls in closer to you. The sunlight seeping in through the window begins to touch the lines on his face and you wonder how it could be possible that he looked so young. Decades of pain and suffering laid to the waste in favor of a boyish smile that tugs gently up at his cheeks and a soft, contented hum in his chest. 

His nose brushes over your exposed collarbone and there’s a beautiful glimpse of a smile as he sinks back into the pillow. Impossibly sweet. Terribly beautiful. Your heart beats painfully in your chest and the edges start to pull apart, splintering down the center. It cracks and shatters and blisters into fragments in time with the gentle sighs he elicits as he tries to curl in closer to you. 

You hold your breath as you slowly unwind from his embrace; untangling your leg from the dip between his own, lifting your arm off of his chest, pulling back away from his hold along your spine, and the slight frown on his face slips your notice. He shivers as you crawl to the edge of the bed, though he remains asleep. He tugs the sheet up closer to his shoulders and turns onto his side, his back facing you. 

Feet press to the hardwood floors and you scan his room for your clothes thrown off in haste from the night before. They mock you as you tug your jeans back on, as you slip the tank top back over your shoulders and let it fall clumsily against your frame. The fabrics smell of alcohol and the cigarette smoke from the bar, wrinkled from their time on the floor.

You pause before you can make it to the door, stealing one last look at Bucky. 

He lays perfectly still, his right hand curled under the pillow, his left draped down by his chest, reflective in the sunlight. You realize then that you’d never seen him this at peace; not even in the mornings after you’d crawled into bed with him to chase the demons in his sleep away with a barrier of pajamas sheets between you, but the thought is pushed aside before you can allow yourself to wonder what it could mean. 

Inching closer towards the door, your heel catches on one of Bucky’s sneakers and you stumble back into the dresser, slamming the wood of the frame against the wall. 

Bucky jolts up in an instant, gun wielded in his hand from the nightstand beside him, eyes wide, chest panting, until he finds you slumped on the floor with your jaw clenched tightly, shoes in your hands.

You dare a glance up at him and he seems surprised to see you. His eyes narrow as he looks you over, notices the haphazard mess of your hair, the wrinkles in your clothes thrown in haste to cover yourself, the crease of pillow marks in your cheeks. His eyes flicker to the floor and he swallows, shifting slightly in the bed. He seems to realize then that he’s naked. 

“You want to lower your gun?” you say slowly, calmly, and Bucky nods. He sets it down on the nightstand. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, scratching at the nape of his neck. His cheeks flame red. 

You’re quick to notice he can’t meet your eye as the memory of the previous night comes rushing back to him and a burning heat of shame seeps through you. It punctures in through your chest and it does not relent. It squeezes at your heart, suffocates in your lungs. It screams through the ringing in your ears and it takes everything you have to keep from crying. You _can’t_ cry in front of him now. You _won’t._

“Right,” you drawl out, nervously glancing around the room; just about anywhere but at Bucky where the lines of his muscles are drenched in sunlight and the sheet falls draped down over his waist. You swallow back the bile in your throat. “Well, I’m, um… I’m gonna go.”

“You’re leaving?” he asks suddenly, a pained kind of ache in his voice you don’t suspect just as your hand touches the cold metal of the knob.

You freeze, your heart pounding terribly in your chest. A deep breath fills your lungs and you summon the kind of courage you’ve only ever known on a battlefield, when you’re facing demons and monsters; the kind of courage you’ve never had in the presence of the man you loved. You let your features hardened, jaw clenched, and you turn around. 

“I know how this works,” is all you say and Bucky furrows his brow. 

He purses his lips, a slight tilt of his head. Always so soft, so kind in his eyes, even as he breaks your heart. “I don’t underst—”

“ _Don’t_ do that,” you cut him off sharply, voice barely a whisper. It’s all you can get out. “Don’t act like you haven’t had one night stands with women you don’t ever want to see again. Don’t act like you don’t bring home the pretty girls from the bar late at night or that they don’t slip out before Nat gets the coffee running in the kitchen because _I hear you_ , _Bucky_.”

That seems to come as a surprise to him because his lips part, the kind of panic on his face you’ve never seen even in the empty halls of a Hydra base. He chest rises a little faster, his hands curl into the sheets. 

“Y/n, I—”

“You’re not as quiet as you think,” you continue, heart pounding, hands shaking. “We share a wall.”

He shakes his head, stumbling to find his words. “I didn’t— _shit._ I’m so sorry Y/n. I didn’t know you could—"

“I know what your game is,” you inform him, certain, as you bundle your shoes into your arms defiantly, brushing the messy strand of hair from your eyes. “I know you sleep around because it’s easier than actually letting someone in and I know you pretend like it never happened the next day. It’s fine, Bucky. It’s your life and I’m not trying to shame you for that, but just because you made the mistake of sleeping with someone you still have to see the next day, it doesn’t mean I don’t know how this is supposed to go.”

Bucky blinks a few times, the shock on his face goes unnoticed through the blur in your eyes. The rock had lodged itself in your throat and it burns – _it aches_ – and you swear it might suffocate you completely. 

His mouth falls agape, words trying to form on his tongue but none come. There’s only a brief, suspended moment of triumph in his silence before the walls come crashing down around you. Your hands start to shake and you know he can see the tremors coming on because his eyes quickly flash up to your own, concern quickly replacing the panic and he jumps up out of the bed. 

You stumble backwards, shaking your head as he scrambles for a pair of sweatpants thrown over the chair by his bed. He slips them on and tries to come towards you but in your retreat, he freezes. A flash of hurt seeps over his features and he takes a step back. He holds up his hands in defense. You’ve never pulled away like that from him before. 

“Just give me a second to explain,” he asks slowly. His voice is low, breaking. He begs. “Please.”

“What’s there to explain?” you push back, tears welling in your eyes; your shame on full display. “You going to _deny_ you slept with those women?”

His shoulders slump. He looks like he’s in pain. “No, I can’t do that. You know that. But if you’d just let me—”

“God, I’m so stupid!” you groan, starting to pace at the edge of his room. “I know that you do this. I know that you find comfort in women and you don’t go back for more. _I know that_ and I still… I still fucking gave in because I’m _weak_. I’m so goddamn _weak_ when it comes to you. I’m so fucking pathetic!”

“Y/n, _please,_ stop—”

“I _knew_ what this was,” you shake your head, unable to hear him. You barely notice as he takes a step forward closer to you, testing his grounds. “I _knew_ this was only ever going to be one night and it would ruin everything between us. I _knew_ it wouldn’t mean anything more to you but I… I couldn’t help it and now—now—”

“Is that what you think?” Bucky says so softly you almost don’t hear him. It makes you pause, feet stilling along the woven carpet, and you stare at him as he shakes his head. There’s a sadness there, and an anger, too, and it surprises you. “You really think you were just somefuck to me?”

You swallow, staring at him. He searches your eyes, near desperate, and you can practically see the way his heart starts to fracture, how his stomach starts to twist into knots and the breath falls in his chest. You suppose your silence gives away your answer. 

“You think that I would – _what?_ – just throw you away when I’m done with you?” he says, hurt laced in his voice and it sets a stone heavy in your heart. “Like you’re just some meaningless one-night stand? Is that what you think of me?”

Bucky slumps down onto the bed. The springs squeak under his weight and he hunches over his knees, fingers raking through his hair. The scars on his left shoulder are brighter, irritated. He starts to massage at it, winces at the effort, and hangs his hand low enough for his hair to shield himself from you. 

“I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he says quietly, staring down at the floor. “It fucking kills me that you think I’d be so careless with you.”

You don’t say anything as you set your shoes back on the floor, inching yourself closer to him until you sit on the bed beside him. Your weight dips the mattress just enough, lets you slide in next to Bucky as your thighs touch. His breath hitches. 

“I’d _never_ use you like that,” Bucky exhales, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I need you to know that. You mean everything to me, Y/n. _Everything._ I had _known_ … if I _knew_ you wanted… if I knew you felt this way…” He sighs, struggling to find his words. “I’ve wasted so much time, Y/n. Spent so much time hiding and trying to shove that part of me to the darkest corners of myself because it hurt so goddamn much to let it to the surface. But if I knew… If I had known…”

“What are you saying?” you ask quietly, near a whisper.

Bucky lifts his head, blue eyes shielded in a glossy haze as he turns to you. A sad kind of smile lifts at the corners of his lips. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve loved you?” 

He says it so simply, so casually, as if it doesn’t set a fire in your chest and meld the cracks chipped over the years with the sharp edge of a blade. He says it as if it the truest thing he’d ever said. He says it with a kind of relief as if he’s been holding it back for as long as he’s known it, as if he’s been suffocating under the pressure of it and he can finally breath again. He smiles at you, though it’s aching, and your hand reaches out for his. 

It startles him at first because he doesn’t see it coming, how your fingers so gently curl around his, how they seem to fit so perfectly intertwined in his own. He stares down at them for a moment before he turns back to you, a flash of awe nestled into shades of blue and you bite down on your lip to keep the tears at bay. 

“I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you, Buck,” you say softly. A laugh escapes you on the exhale and Bucky reaches up to wipe the tears on your cheeks; happy ones, he realizes, as his thumb strokes so sweetly over your jawline. 

His smile only lasts for a moment before it starts to fade, before his eyes start to trail down to the floor and his hand falls from your cheek. “I’ve been hurting you for so long…”

“Don’t go there,” you stress, drawing him back to you with a squeeze of his hand. “We’re here now, okay?”

“Are we?” he asks, small like a child. “You want to really do this? You and me? I mean, if anyone knows what they’re signing up for with me, it’s you… but, do you really want all my baggage?”

“I want _you,”_ you tell him sternly because he needs to hear it and you suspect he will more than once. “It doesn’t mean I’m not scared, though. I’m _terrified_ , Buck. The idea of losing you kills me. If this ends up being a huge mistake… if we crash and burn…” 

“What if we don’t?” he offers, a flicker of hope returning to his eyes. 

You sigh. “It’s a risk.”

“Not for me.”

It takes you by surprise as he says it. The conviction in it. The certainty. Bucky inhales a steady breath before he turns to you. 

“I’ve spent so much time keeping myself from you,” he says. “I can’t do it anymore. So, if… If you’ll have me, I’m yours. I always have been and I will still be even if you decide to walk away, even if this goes south. I’m _always_ going to be yours.”

A gentle sort of silence takes over, but there’s a comfort in it. You can hear the subtle exhales in Bucky’s breath, the chirping of birds beyond the window, the steady thumping of your heart. Ocean blue rakes down over you and it leaves behind a warmth in its wake; a longing, too. Teeth bite down over the fullest point of his bottom lip as his eyes trail back up to your own. 

Your hand slides up along the curves of his muscle, chest bare and exposed, tracing over the lines in his abs and up along his collarbone. He shivers under the touch, under the exploration of your hands, and you let your palm settled along his neck, thumb sweeping gently at his jawline. 

“Show me,” you whisper, voice a little unsteady, a little unsure of his confession, but a steady smile curves up upon Bucky’s lips.

“Lay down, sweetheart,” he tells you as he slowly guides you down to the mattress. Your back settles down to the messy comforter and Bucky’s forearms cage down around your shoulders, hovering himself above you until he lets high weight sink down enough just to feel the heaviness of his body against your own. 

Then, he leans in to your lips, capturing your bottom lip between his own and sucking sweetly. It draws a moan from your lips as his thigh nestles between your legs and rubs at your core. The layer of jeans between you is suffocating, but as Bucky’s tongue slips between your lips and brushes against your own, the frustration falls to the wayside as you lose yourself to his kiss. Hands rake into his hair, pulling him closer, and he laughs against your lips; a beautiful kind of sound that makes your stomach twist into knots. 

“Eager, huh?” he teases as he pulls away breathless. His lips are red and swollen and somehow, he manages to be more handsome than he was just a moment prior. 

“We have a lot of time to make up for,” you reply with a shrug, grinning up at him. 

“Guess we better get going then,” Bucky laughs and his fingers curl under the fabric of your tank top. You help him slid it up along your spine and discard it to the floor where you found it either that morning. 

It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time because he pauses for a moment, just staring, and it surprises you that it does not leave you feeling uncomfortable or exposed. Instead, there’s a rush in it, an appreciation, _a love_ , and you arch your back for him. He swallows as he gently brushes his thumb over your nipples pebbling under the chill of his room and the heat of his gaze. He’s memorizing you, you realize, as he slowly lowers himself to your breast and takes a nipple between his lips. 

“Oh, Bucky,” you sigh, fingers combing through his hair as his tongue flicks over the bud, his cheeks hallowing as he sucks at it. His left hand kneads at your free breast, gentle in contrast to the metal upon your skin. 

You squeeze your legs together around his thigh, seeking friction and rubbing yourself down against his leg. It pulls a choked moan from Bucky as he releases your breast and quickly moves to the other. His thigh presses up against your core, giving you the pressure you were seeking and he rolls his hips. 

“Jeans,” you gasp, “take them off.”

Bucky chuckles at that. He presses a final, chaste kiss to the hill of your breast before he crawls down the bed and begins unbuttoning your jeans. He moves in agonizing pace and you suppose he’s having a grand time with it to watch you whine so impatiently. 

“Bucky!” you finally groan as his fingers hook over the band at your waist and he stills. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, all light hearted and dripping in a rush of adrenaline. He winks up at you, pauses for only a moment, before he yanks your jeans and panties off in one tug as tosses them far to the corner of the room. The chill shivers in your spine for only a second before Bucky settles back over your again. 

You try to slip your hands into the waist of his sweatpants but he shakes his head. 

“Patience, baby.”

“You’re insufferable, Barnes,” you grunt, though you’re smiling. “We’ve waited long enough.”

“Always time for this,” he argues playfully as he slides his fingers down along your stomach, trailing over course curls as he makes his way lower, and dips in between your legs. His pointer and index finger part your lips and slowly sink into the wetness pooling at your center. 

You moan, tossing your head back to the pillows and Bucky smirks. 

“Told you,” he teases and you’re too lost in the way his fingers alternate circling at your clit and pushing in and out of your entrance to berate him for the way he so confidently watches for your reactions. 

You catch him chewing on his own lip, a shaky exhale in his chest as he pushes in a third finger and feels the tightness of your walls squeezing at him, knowing how good that will feel around his cock, and you purposefully clench around him just to see the shiver that trembles up his spine. His cock sits thick against your thigh and you can feel how hard he is even through the barrier of his sweats. You want to feel him, taste him, hold him _, something,_ because his fingers aren’t enough. 

“Bucky, please,” you whine just as he hooks his fingers into you, dragging the pads of his fingertips against the inside of your walls. You’re breathless and chasing his fingers as they pull out, but he’s quick to slip his sweatpants down over his thighs and settle himself between your legs. 

He pauses though, as he runs the tip of his cock along your slit, gathering the wetness and slipping it down around himself, pumping through his hand a few times. He’s stunning as he clenches his jaw, as his eyes flutter shut, and he exhales a harsh breath. 

“You’re certain?” he asks as he lowers himself to your chest. There’s a hesitancy in his movement you don’t usually see in him, but he’s different with you, you realize. He’s gentle and loving and he handles you in his touch like you’re made of something precious, and perhaps to him you are. 

You lean up to kiss him, holding him still for just a moment longer, letting yourself revel in the first moments Bucky Barnes is truly and solely yours. He smiles against your lips and you can practically feel the nerves washing from his muscles. 

“With you? Always.”

He wastes no time as he edges his tip at your entrance, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, and slowly sinks in. He presses his nose to your shoulder as he bottoms out inside you. You gasp, staring up at the ceiling as your arms cage around his back, holding him as close as you can manage. It all happened so quickly the night before, so you held onto him, savored the moment, the feel of him stretching at your walls, the tight sting of it, the heat of his breaths. 

“You okay?” he asks and his voice is coated in tension, in fever, and he’s nearly shaking trying to keep himself still. 

You smirk, hooking your arm around his and throwing his momentum to the bed as you swung yourself on top. Bucky’s back to the bedding, he stared up at you in awe, pupils blown wide, lips parted. Hands resting on his chest, you begin to grind your hips down against him, dragging the length of his cock against your walls, pressing up into the sweet spot that leaves you arching your back as nails dig into his skin. 

“That’s it, baby,” he praises as his hands roam up your curves and find their way to your breasts, thumbs brushing over hardened nipples. “That’s my girl.”

“Ah, f- _fuck,”_ you moan, hips picking up in pace, rhythm falling sloppy as you chase the edge of the cliff, seeking free fall, seeking release and it’s within the moment Bucky’s fingers slip down between your bodies and begins circling at your clit that you cry out. 

It hits you quickly and Bucky takes full advantage of the sudden stillness in your muscles and flips you back to the mattress. Hips thrusting, pounding into you, clit swollen between his fingers, you barely touch the ground before it starts building all over again.

“Bucky! Ah- _God!_ Don’t stop—”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he pants, voice barely audible over the cry of the hinges. His lips find your pulse point along your neck and he sucks; a sweet and tender contrast to the sharp and rushed snap of his hips to your own. More, more, _more._

You walls tighten around him, _squeeze_ him, and the moan that parts his lips is near sinful. 

“F-fuck, baby, I’m—fuck—I’m gonna come.” Bucky circles his arms under your shoulders, pulling you as close as he can manage, and lets you replace his fingers on your clit with your own. You rub in harsh, needy circles and the buildup is unlike anything else; it runs like fire through your veins and everything is entirely and completely _Bucky_.

It chases you higher and higher and higher until the coil at your core is wound as tight as it can manage, and suddenly, it lets go and you cry out into Bucky’s shoulder. Your walls clamp down on his cock as he chases his own release, rushed and messy, needy and aching, until a choked moan presses into the crook of your neck and he spills inside of you. 

A few lingering thrusts follow, slow and tender, riding out the high. His lips find their way to your jawline, tracing a line back to your mouth where he finds you smiling at him, waiting. You kiss him as he stills, the weight of his body pressing you down into the mattress, his cock softening inside you, full of him entirely. 

“Hey,” he exhales, a laugh peppering his voice as he pulls back just enough to admire the flush in your cheeks and the line of sweat beading on your forehead.

“Hey,” you reply, a little shaky now, though you can still feel him nestled between your legs and the nervousness subsides. 

“Still think this could be a mistake; you and me?” Bucky asks, lips pressed up into his cheeks, beaming, because he knows your answer. 

“Maybe,” you shrug, cupping at the sides of his face. Your best friend. Your lover. The man you adored and cherished. Bright blue eyes and lingering traces of freckles hidden beneath the surface. Kindness etched into his features and a smile that could knock you straight off your feet. 

“Maybe?” he scoffs back playfully. He turns and presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. 

You nod, pulling him back to your lips. Soft and chaste, impossibly gentle, loving. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” 


End file.
